


Curses Pt.2

by seeminglyincurablesentimentality (myinnerchildisbored)



Series: Rose Shelby vs. All the Bastards [19]
Category: Peaky Blinders (TV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-27
Updated: 2019-08-27
Packaged: 2020-09-27 20:00:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20413474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myinnerchildisbored/pseuds/seeminglyincurablesentimentality
Summary: Or: The least fun family road trip in the history of unfun family road trips.





	Curses Pt.2

Pastures gave way to fields gave way to woods, but the sky remained grey and weepy. The caravan rolled on and on and on, crunching away along the road. The clomping of the big black’s hoofs and the gentle rocking of the wagon were sending Rose off to a strange place between waking and sleeping.

Charlie was snoring softly, his head on a round pillow embroidered with bluebirds. He’d cried for a little bit before he fell asleep, called for his mama. Rose’s father and Johnny Dogs had rumbled all kinds of ‘there, there’, ‘you’re a big, brave boy’, ‘you’re orright’ type of things, until Charlie’s wet eyes had fallen shut, tears gluing his long lashes together.

Rose rested her head on her drawn-up knees and tried to breathe away the hot coals at the base of her throat. Curled up in the back of the vardo with Johnny Dogs’ coat draped over him, Charlie didn’t look like the little Lord of the manor…he was just a little kid, who didn’t have a mum anymore.

Rose couldn’t believe that she’d missed it, the fact that Grace was really Charlie’s mum.

She’d been so busy, Grace, meeting people to charm them into giving money for orphans and things, going off on early honeymoons and to late dinners; Charlie spent so much of his time with Frances, it hadn’t occurred to Rose that he would miss Grace at all. It was so fucking stupid, it made bile rise from under the rocks, bringing with it an acrid taste of burned soul.

Rose had been a baby without a mum. She couldn’t remember it. If Pol was to be believed, Rose had been a wide-awake, running menace with no sense at all; but she had never mentioned any crying for her mum…or her dad for that matter. Because, of course, when Rose had been a motherless baby, her father had not taken her away in a gypsy caravan; he’d gone off to France instead. Leaving Rose to forget her mother – and her father - on her own.

For a moment, Rose was so angry it burned all the guilt and shame away. But then her father turned a bit, if only to check on Charlie, and Rose could see how hollow his cheeks were, that he was so pale his freckles looked like bruises, like the good faeries had turned on him and battered him with their tiny fists. It made her want to climb onto his back and hold on, but she couldn’t.

She couldn’t have done that even if she hadn’t killed Grace; it just wasn’t the sort of thing they did.

#

And on and on and on…until the hard wood of the floor was starting to hurt Rose’s arse.

“Where are we goin’?”

Her father turned around, seemingly surprised to see her. No, not surprised, just a bit confused.

“Wales,” said Johnny Dogs.

“Why?”

“Now there’s a good question.” Johnny Dogs turned towards Tommy. “Care to shed a light now, Tom?”

“There’s light enough for me to see.”

Rose and Johnny Dogs exchanged a frowning glance.

“Right, be like that,” Johnny Dogs said. “Come on, then, Rosie-girl.”

“Come where?” Rose asked.

“Stretch the old legs and keep your good pal Johnny company, eh?” Johnny Dogs grabbed a satchel from under the seat and hopped off.

Rose climbed onto the front seat beside her father, careful not to trod on Charlie. She stared at Tommy, waiting for him to maybe say something more after all, or at least look over. Nothing but.

Rose took a breath and jumped off the moving wagon, stumbled and landed on her knees in the boggy grass. A hand appeared in front of her face and she let Johnny Dogs pull her up.

“We’ll go over,” he said, nodding up the hill beside them. “Catch them up on the other side.”

“D’you really not know what’s in Wales?” Rose asked as she fell into a trot beside him.

“Not a fuckin’ clue,” Johnny Dogs said darkly. “But knowin’ your old man, it could be anythin’ from the crown jewels to an army of trained fuckin’ monkeys.”

“That’d be good,” Rose grinned.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you.” Johnny Dogs reached down and ruffled her damp hair. “Tell me another thing though – d’you fancy a rabbit for your dinner?”

“Yea?”

“I’ll shoot it if you’ll skin it. Deal?”

“I don’t know how.”

“No?”

“No.”

“That’s disgraceful.” Johnny Dogs shook his head in mock disgust. “Has Tom not taught you anything?”

“Some things.”

“Anythin’ useful?”

“To keep my face straight and my mouth shut.”

Johnny Dogs paused, careful to keep his sideways grin in place.

“Well, guess what you’re learning today?” he asked finally.

“To skin a rabbit?” Rose gave a sideways grin of her own.

“To skin a fucking rabbit.” Johnny Dogs stomped off towards the top of the hill, shaking his head and muttering some type of displeasure under his breath.

Rose followed in his wake, wondering if they’d really find her father and Charlie on the other side.

#

They found a rabbit and the rabbit found its end.

Rose couldn’t stop staring at the hole in its head as she carried it down the other side of the hill, towards the caravan just rounding the bend in the road. Johnny Dogs was nothing if not a crack shot, she had to admit. She hadn’t thought it was possible to get a running rabbit at all, never mind getting it in the eye. It had barely even twitched anymore by the time Rose had run up to collect it. Maybe it had been this quick for Grace as well.

The man with the gun hadn’t gotten her in the face though, there’d been no marks on it, none that Rose had seen. But still. Maybe it had been quick. Rose hoped it had been.

Charlie was up now and sitting at the opening, waving when he spotted Rose and Johnny Dogs at the side of the road. Tommy didn’t stop for them, but he did slow the vardo down enough so they could pull themselves back on board.

“Did you kill her, Rosie?”

Rose lost her grip on the side of the bench. If Johnny Dogs hadn’t gripped her by the front of her coat, she’d have gone under the wheels for certain. All of her went dry, her blood turned to sand and her mouth stuck shut. She stared up at her father, mortified beyond the point of feeling anything at all. He was looking back at her with mild interest at best, although a tiny crease began to form between his eyebrows after her stunned silence had gone on for a while.

“Rose.”

“Eh?” she croaked.

“Did you shoot that doe?” Tommy nodded towards the rabbit she was still clutching, mashing its ears to bits in an involuntary death grip.

She shook her head…it was more of a spasm really. He kept looking. She’d given the fucking game away, he was onto her now, he was working it out and then, that’d be it. He’d drown her in a stream or beat her til her bones were broken or cut her throat open or never speak to her again, which would be worst of all. Rose could feel a hot burning behind her eyes just thinking about it.

“Orright?” her father asked.

“Yea.”

“Good girl.”

Tommy’s eyes drifted back to the road and the caravan sped up a little. Rose slumped against the back door and waited for her heart to either slow down or start beating again, she wasn’t at all sure which was needed.

“Bunny!” Charlie was beaming up at her, reaching for it. “My bunny?”

Rose wordlessly handed him the limp rabbit. Charlie pressed it to his chest, grinning from ear to ear. He ground his cheek against it and came away with a streak of rabbit blood under his eye.

“Eh, eh, let me have that, boy-o.” Johnny Dogs knelt down next to Charlie, holding his hand out.“That’s not for playin’ with. Go on, give it here.”

Very, very reluctantly, Charlie allowed himself to be parted from the rabbit. His lip wobbled threateningly as he watched Johnny dogs string the rabbit up on the beam running along the curved wooden ceiling. He turned to Rose and pointed.

“Sad bunny.”

“It’s not,” Rose said quietly. “It’s dead. You can’t be sad if you’re dead, Charles, it’s the people who keep living that get sad.”

“Sad bunny.”

“The bunny’s orright.”

“_Sad_ Bunny.”

“It’s not even a fucking bunny,” Rose told her little brother. “It’s just dinner now.”

Charlie frowned and scrambled away to sit between Tommy and Johnny Dogs. He pointed out towards the big black one.

“Sad horsey.”

“Yea, _that_’s a horse,” Tommy said.

Once, a long time ago it seemed, James’ older brother had spent a wet afternoon reading scary stories to James and Rose and Alice and Billy, from some type of bent and crinkled magazine. There’d been one about a man who killed another man and then went mad and thought he could hear the dead man’s heart beating…under the floorboards or something…Rose couldn’t quite remember anymore.

She hadn’t thought that one was particularly scary, there had been much worse ones. Now though, fucking hell, now that she was the murderer and her guilt made her hear things it was a completely different matter. It was a shame she couldn’t remember how the story ended; whether the murderer lost all of his mind or confessed and was hung. Neither option was all that appealing.

#

They made camp a couple of hours later, so they’d have time to make a fire and sort out the rabbit before dark. Tommy freed the black horse and it wandered off to graze. Johnny Dogs ripped some creeping Charlie off a shrub and handed it to the sitting Charlie in the caravan.

“Eat that,” he said. “It’s got your name, it’s good for you. And you-“ he pulled a knife from his belt and held it out to Rose “-come on.”

They hung the rabbit upside down from a low branch.

“You’ve to cut around the feet first,” Johnny Dogs said. “Gently, orright, no hacking them off.”

Rose had seen her aunt Polly skin rabbits quite a few times. It took her about two minutes, Pol, she made it look easy. It turned out to be rather the operation. She could hear her father talking to Charlie over in the caravan, but she couldn’t quite make out the words. Rose strained to hear and her hand slipped, suddenly drenched in rabbit blood.

“Fuckin’- stop, stop…” Johnny Dogs grabbed Rose’s wrist and pulled the knife away from the rabbit.

“I-“

“Never mind those two.” Johnny Dogs nodded towards the vardo. “You’ve business here, not over there.”

“Sorry,” Rose mumbled.

“Never mind sorry. That pelt’s fuckin’ ruined now.”

Rose sniffed.

“Don’t bloody…Christ,” Johnny Dogs sighed. “Come here. Now. We can still eat it. You just won’t get a fancy collar for your coat.”

“Sorry.”

“You’re orright. Look. See if you can slice down the front, without opening its belly, mind. I’ll see where that horse has got to, eh?”

While she was slowly, ever so slowly working her way through the drenched fur on the rabbit’s stomach, Rose could hear Johnny Dogs arguing with the horse. He was annoyed now, she could tell.

“The bloody horse won’t come to me,” she heard him complain and a moment later her father emerged from the caravan, walking towards the horse, cooing low incantations of calmness. The knife slipped, Rose nicked her thumb and a splatter of rabbit guts fell onto her shoes.

“Fuck…” she muttered, turning her attention back to her task.

The rabbit looked like it’d been mauled by a dog. There was an awful smell now, rising from the steaming pile by her feet and from inside the rabbit as well.

“Give it here.”

She jumped, wheeled around and nearly stabbed Tommy in the leg.

“Quickly,” he snapped.

Rose handed over the knife and her father stripped the stained fur off the rabbit in no time at all before turning the animal inside out. The rest of its innards came slopping out and Rose made a face despite herself. She’d cut into the bowel, she must have done, and there was all types of horrible, manky, half-digested grass now, stuck all over the rabbit’s inside.

“Nicely done,” her father said drily.

“I’ll wash it,” Rose offered.

“That’ll be right.” Tommy shook his head. “Go keep an eye on your brother.”

“But-“

“I’ll do the cooking, eh?”

“I can do it.” Rose offered, annoyed at her own meekness.

“You’ve done enough.”

Her father stomped off with the rabbit, leaving Rose standing in its shredded entrails until Charlie started crying and Johnny Dogs roared at her to come and help him do something about it.

#

Rose craned her head to assess the state of her father’s whiskey bottle from her side of the fire. The rabbit was eaten, Charlie was asleep in the caravan, Johnny Dogs was lying back with his head on a log, smoking and looking up at the sky. Tommy was staring into the fire; he had been doing it since he’d come back out after putting Charlie to bed. He was so intent on the flames, it made his eyes look melty… then again, perhaps it was just the whiskey softening the steel in them a little.

The whiskey was about halfway down the label. It had been full; her father had poured the first measure onto the ground before he got started. Perhaps he was trying to drink enough to make himself go to sleep, like her uncle Arthur used to do before he’d ‘replaced the bottle with the bible’, as Finn had put it.

“Come here.”

Rose looked up. Her father was still looking at the fire, elbows on his knees and hands around his glass.

“Me?” she asked.

“Yea, Rosie. You.”

It was a long way around the fire, long enough for Rose’s heart to start and stop at least a thousand times before she carefully lowered herself down beside her father. She waited for him to say something, but the fire had taken him away again.

“The rabbit was nice,” she said finally.

“D’you enjoy it?” he asked.

“Yea.”

“Yea?”

“Yea.”

“Good stuff.” Tommy poured another measure and took a swig rather than a sip. Like they'd just found him in the desert and the whiskey was the first water he'd seen in months.

“It wasn’t ruined,” Rose said when he came up for breath.

“It very nearly was.” Tommy knocked back the rest of his drink and reached for the bottle again.

“You saved it.”

He stopped. The glass hung in one hand somewhere halfway across his chest, the fingertips of the other were just grazing the bottle beside him. He wasn’t looking at her, but Rose could see his hard face slipping, just a little.

“I’m sorry…” Rose cleared her throat a bit, “…sorry I-“

“Sometimes, Rosie,” her father interrupted, “sometimes when people are… It’s like when a horse is footsore and snaps at anyone who comes near it, even people it knows. Not because it’s angry but because it’s in pain.”

“Are you in pain?”

“In a way.”

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

“So, never mind about the fuckin’ rabbit. Orright, Rosie?” He shot her a glance.

“I stuffed it up.”

“Yea, well, you’ll need to practice then, eh?” Tommy gave her a half-arse wink and raised his glass; his eyes and his voice where drenched in whiskey. “It still made it to the table, the one fucking thing I managed to save…”

He let the words drift away into the fire. Rose watched them turn to smoke and float away, mingling with the tiny chimney of Johnny Dog’s cigarette before disappearing into the dark. Her father put his arm around her so suddenly, she flinched.

“Orright?” he muttered.

“Yea.”

Rose rested her head against his bony shoulder. There were tiny weights tied to the ends of her lashes, pulling her eyes shut. She caught snatches of talk, Johnny Dogs had gotten a second wind, and once in a while her father’s shoulder moved as he brought the bottle to the glass. Eventually, Rose slid down past his ribcage and she jolted upright.

“Go on to bed, eh?”

She stumbled across the black grass and curled up on the floorboards. Charlie could have the bed to himself.

#

“Where’s Johnny Dogs gone?”

They were leaning against the vardo on the crest of a hill, clouds racing across a grey sky above them. Charlie was sitting on the ground, ripping fistfuls of grass out to feed to his wooden horse.

“To collect who I’ve come to see,” her father told his cigarette.

“Who’s that?”

“Madam Boswell.”

Rose kicked a rock embedded in the ground, loosening it a little.

“Why?”

“For a chat.”

He kept putting his right hand in the pocket of his jacket – in, out, in, out…- it came back empty every time. Rose’s rock had a fair bit of room to move now.

“What’s ‘absolution’?” she asked.

“What?”

“Absolution,” Rose repeated, her eyes never straying from the rock.

“Why d’you ask?”

“You said it to Johnny Dogs,” she said. “Last night. That that’s what we’re going to Wales for, for absolution. What is it?”

Her father lit another cigarette and took a slow drag. A cart appeared over the top of the next hill over. Johnny Dog’s blue suit was unnaturally bright, a chunk of rainbow fallen to earth.

“Permission,” Tommy said.

“Permission to do what?” Rose squinted up at him; his neck looked too long from this angle, like it’d been stretched out hanging.

“To keep moving forward.”

“What-“

“It’s like in church, Rosie, when they confess their sins and are forgiven. And then they can move on. Mind your brother, orright?”

Tommy tossed his cigarette and started down the hill where the cart was slowing down. Rose watched him come to a stop under a bare tree.

“Sad grass.” Charlie was tugging on her coat.

“_That’s _grass,” Rose said. “_That’s_, Charlie, bloody _that’s._”

“_Sads_,” her brother repeated dutifully.

“Fuckin’ hopeless…” Rose muttered.

Her father was talking to Madam Boswell now, handing her something; he was in the way, Rose couldn’t see what they were exchanging down there. Maybe you had to pay for absolution. Maybe you got it in writing.

Johnny Dogs was standing halfway down between them, looking out over the valley. Rose slowly drifted down the hill until she was next to him.

“What’re they talking about?” she asked.

“I’ve no bloody clue,” Johnny Dogs growled. “I tell you what but, Rosie-girl, it’s a long fuckin’ way to come for a talk, so it’d better do the trick.”

Tommy turned very suddenly and came striding up the hill.

“Bless you, Tommy Shelby,” Madam Boswell called out after him. “You’ll have good fortune from now on.”

Her father looked different, Rose noticed; not happy, not relieved, but as though he was in charge again.

“Is the business done?” Johnny Dogs asked.

“It’s done,” Tommy said without breaking stride.

It had worked, by the sounds and looks of it, whatever it was, it had done something. Taken something away or given something…

Rose turned and ran down the hill towards the tree and Madam Boswell. She watched her come running, Madam Boswell did, her wild head tilted to the side a little. Rose skidded to a stop before her, opened her mouth and found herself with no idea what to say. Madam Boswell raised an eyebrow and waited.

“I…ah…” Rose chewed her lip, searching for words. “Uh…could I have some as well, please, Madam Boswell?”

“Some of what?” She had so many lines, it was like she was a cliff face come to life.

“Some absolution.”

Madam Boswell’s eyes didn’t fit with the rest of her face at all and they now bored into Rose with unnerving interest.

“For what?” she asked.

“I-“

“Rose!” her father shouted from the top of the hill.

“I did a spell,” Rose blurted. “I did and now… I didn’t think it’d work, not really…I-“

Madam Boswell’s eyes narrowed til they were stabbing at Rose like needles.

“What spell?”

“With the spiders’ webs?” Rose was writhing under her gaze.

“Did you hang it?” Madam Boswell asked.

“Yea…not so long but…”

“And bury it?”

“I did,” Rose said weakly. “Only across the fence though.”

Madam Boswell was staring at her now, taking a good long look at her, stripping away the skin on her face with the heat in her eyes.

“Give me your hands,” she commanded.

Rose held out her rather shaky hands and Madam Boswell took them in hers.

“Where are your mother’s people from?”

“Uhm…Digbeth.”

“Rose – come on!” came another shout from the caravan.

There was no looking away from Madam Boswell, not if the king himself was calling for you.

“She a gypsy?”

“No.”

Madam Boswell let go of Rose’s hands.

“It travels mother to daughter, when it travels at all,” she said. “You’ve nothing.”

“Are you sure?”

Madam Boswell’s stare hardened.

“Sorry,” Rose whispered. “It’s just…sorry.”

“Come here.”

Rose took the smallest step possible forward. Madam Boswell slapped her; her hand was surprisingly hard for such an old woman.

“There’s your absolution,” she said. “Don’t go messing around with things like that again, you hear me?”

“Yea…yes,” Rose said.

“Silly girl.” Madam Boswell waved her away. “Go on home.”

Rose backed away, her feet unsteady all of a sudden.

“_Nais tuke_,” she said softly.

“You’re welcome, little Shelby.”

Rose turned and stumbled up the hill to the vardo; she clambered up between her father and Johnny Dogs, both of them eyeing her suspiciously.

“Nice of you to join us,” Johnny Dogs said.

“No problem.” There was a lightness within Rose, spreading all through her like warm soup on a winter afternoon. “Where are we goin’ now?”

“Train station,” her father said.

“Why?”

“ ‘cause I’m done carting you pair of secret keepers around,” Johnny Dogs grumbled.

“Are we goin’ back?” Rose asked.

“Yea.”

“On a train?”

“No, Rose, in a bloody Zeppelin,” Tommy said wearily. 

Rose grinned, she couldn’t help herself. She’d never been on a train before.

#

Rose woke with a start and found herself alone in the compartment. The sun was setting outside, she’d been asleep for hours.

She had barely time to register how wonderful it felt not to be bone-tired anymore, when a wave of panic crashed over her. He’d gone. He’d taken Charlie and gotten off and left her here. The fear was muddling her brain, it took her three attempts to get the fucking door open. She stumbled out and scanned up and down the corridor. There were a couple of men sitting on suitcases, that was all.

Rose picked a direction and started running, tears already blurring her vision. How could she have been stupid enough to fall asleep? If they’d been on a boat with no means for her father to escape- she collided with someone and fell on her arse.

“Fuckin’ watch where-“

Her father was bracing himself against the wall with one hand, holding Charlie up on his hip with the other. Rose burst into tears.

“Orright, orright…” Tommy looked flustered, too many children and not enough space or hands. “Come on, up you get.”

Rose got to her feet awkwardly and he steered her back to their compartment with his free hand on her shoulder.

“D’you hurt yourself?”

She shook her head and dropped down on the soft seat, unable to stop crying.

“Here.” Her father handed her a handkerchief and Rose blew her nose. “What’s wrong?”

“I thought youse were gone.”

“I only went for bloody cigarettes, Rosie.”

“I thought you’d left me.” There was a sharp scrape in all the wetness in her voice now.

“You what?”

“Roey’s cryin’,” Charlie pointed out from Tommy’s lap.

“Yea, Charlie,” he said. “Rosie’s having a cry. And over nothing at all. Fancy that.”

The way he was sitting there, bouncing Charlie in time with the rattling of the train and making fun of her when her heart hadn’t even stopped racing yet; it made Rose so angry her tears stopped.

“It’s not nothing,” she hissed.

“Something that’s not happened might as well be nothing,” her father pointed out.

“It did happen.”

“What did?”

Charlie had gotten some papers out of Tommy’s jacket pocket, their tickets, and they were silently wrestling for them, neither willing to give them over.

“You did leave me.”

“We weren’t gone for ten minutes, you-“

“No, not now,” she interrupted, loudly. “But before you did.”

They were both looking at her now, her father and his bastard, the tickets forgotten between them. Charlie was smiling a little uncertainly, curious what she’d do next; Tommy was frowning, somewhere between annoyed and baffled.

“What are you-“ His frown deepened and took on a little menace. “D’you mean when you were little? There was a war on, it-“

“No-“

“I couldn’t very well bring you to bloody France with me, Rose,” her father charged on, his voice rising steadily.

“It’s not about bloody France,” Rose shouted, “it’s about bloody Wales!”

“I didn’t take you?” He talked like that to her uncle Arthur sometimes, when he was being thick about something, it was the same tone and the same glare. “You’re not here with me now?”

“ ‘cause I caught you.” Rose met his eyes with a glare of her own. “You were running off and you only brought me ‘cause I caught you.”

The tiniest crack appeared in the cold wall of his eyes.

“You’d have been orright,” he said. “I was only ever goin’ to be gone three days, at most.”

“You didn’t even say,” Rose said accusingly.

“Keep your hair on, Rosie, I left a note.”

Charlie, no longer interested now that they weren’t shouting anymore, gave one decisive tug and won the battle of the tickets. Tommy let him have them.

“You were takin’ _him_.”

Charlie was twisting and crumpling the tickets, an expression of pure bliss on his round face, completely oblivious to his sister’s furious eyes on him.

“Leave it alone,” Tommy said.

He said it very quietly and very, very seriously; the way people closed the door in the faces of earnest religious people wanting to talk about the glory of the good lord or some such shite.

It was properly dark outside now. Once in a while there was a swish of light from a house in the distance, but other than that it was like they were travelling across the bottom of the ocean. Rose stared out into the blackness, Tommy smoked, Charlie tired of the tickets and started to blink in the face of advancing sleep.

They stopped at an eerily empty station in the middle of nowhere. No one got on or off, there was just a conductor blowing his whistle for no one, all alone in the tiny circle of brownish light of the platform’s only lamp. Tommy took off his jacket and draped it over the sleeping Charlie.

Slowly, careful not to bump Charlie and wake him up, Tommy stood and sat back down next to Rose.

“I was takin’ him to get him used to the idea that I’m all that’s left.”

Rose turned away from the darkness and found her father staring fixedly at the luggage rack above him.

“There was no sense in dragging you along when I was only goin’ for a couple of days and a talk.”

“Did she tell you what you wanted to hear?” Rose asked. “Madam Boswell.”

“No.” Her father shook his head slowly. “How ‘bout you?”

“Yea.”

Tommy looked over at her with a small smile.

“Yea?”

She’d forgotten. She’d gotten so scared when she woke up alone that she’d forgotten. It was like coming up after staying underwater for too long.

“She did,” Rose said.

A grin spread over her face, growing wider with every one of her deep breaths. Her father reached over and stuck his hand in her hair, scratching her scalp with his fingertips.

“Good thing you came along then, eh, Rosie?”

And outside the darkness rumbled past.

**Author's Note:**

> nais tuke - thank you


End file.
